124 MATESHIP WITH BIRDS 



this melody that has helped to win for the Yellow- 

 Bob a firm place in the affections of all lovers of 

 Nature. 



But not always is Robin silent in the fulness 

 of daytime. A short time ago I heard one chuck- 

 ling away to itself with all the melody, if not 

 strength, of a soliloquising Butcher-Bird. In sooth, 

 it is a rash thing to deny powers of song to any of 

 these little Australians on the superficial basis of 

 our not having heard them lift up their voices. 



Robin has a call, too an intimate, thrilling 

 "word" more potent to move the heart of the bird- 

 lover than any mere song, something as charac- 

 teristic of the coming of Spring in Southern Aus~ 

 tralia as is the wandering voice of the Cuckoo in 

 the Old World. You hear it first in the dying days 

 of July, when the beautiful golden wattle is coming 

 again to its all-assertive glory. It is the faint, yet 

 resonant, nesting call, which, once heard, is asso- 

 ciated ever afterwards with the haunting fragrance 

 of wattle and the breaking of Winter's sway. 



Soon, then, the pretty little bark homes begin to 

 take shape. That these dainty nests are well known 

 is not altogether the fault of their owners. For, in 

 the majority of cases, they harmonise so neatly with 

 the bark of the trees in which they are placed as 

 do also the pretty eggs with the green of the leaves 

 hanging above that it is easy for the casual 

 rambler to pass them by unnoticed. Personally, I 

 have discovered dozens of these homes, and almost 

 always the cause has been familiarity with the in- 

 terchange of signals between the birds as the unique 

 feeding process is in progress. 



